Made for It
by Morguemama
Summary: When Ancar won in the first battle, the Heralds were pratically driven to extinction. Then a little girl with a strange Gift was Chosen, and the Heralds see the chance to win back all they had lost.
1. Prologue

OK, since I won't be posting for a while and I doubt I'll be able to get the next chapter of "Mercs" up before I have to go to training/camp, I'll post this. I've been working on this when I have writer's block on "Mercs", which, as you can see, is quite often. This first part is very short, but I've posted multiple chapters, so there is plenty to read. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I am not Mercedes Lackey, nor do I own any of her characters, places or her worlds.

Prologue

            Ancar had won. On that day when Herald Talia had died in his dungeons, Ancar had swept the field with his wizards. Few Heralds survived it. It was now simply known as "Soulkiller" because it had destroyed the lives and souls of so many people. Selenay had died within minutes of capture, preceded by so many Heralds who fought so valiantly to save her. Herald Alberich had performed his duty even while his heart screamed at him to save his queen, and had ridden from the field as fast as Kantor's hooves could carry him, whisking the Heir to safety in the forest of Sorrows. Then Ancar had rampaged through Valdemar, destroying everything he could. Haven was not spared.

The Heralds that survived had ridden for the Collegium to save as many of the Trainees as they could, Healer, Heraldic and Bardic. The Blues had already been evacuated by their families. The Heralds brought the Trainees with them to Sorrows, Healer and Bardic doubled up with Heraldic Trainees or on the backs of Companions with no Heralds, as the Companion herd also followed them to the Sorrows. The people of Valdemar were told to run, and so they did. They flocked wherever they could run. Iftel even opened its borders to the refugees, recognizing that they could be next and knowing they would need all the manpower they could get.

Meanwhile, those who could not flee went into hiding. Haven became a city of ghosts. Residents, evicted by high-ranking Hardonens, were left to wander the streets, digging in the rubble left behind. The Death Bell tolled daily, sometimes multiple times a day. As the years dragged by, the tolling became a part of life, something to be expected. For every five Companions that left the Sorrows to Choose new Heralds, only two returned. Every newly Chosen Herald discovered was executed if they were caught on their way back to the Sorrows.

Over the years, the Heralds changed their temporary camp to a rustic village, building it to blend in with the forest. Their homes were built in the trees with bridges going from platform to platform. Training areas for weapons work were located on the ground but were never in the same place twice. In essence, it was a fortress against Ancar, meant to keep him away as long as they needed in order to overthrow him, but no more.

Those newly Chosen who did make it back often spent weeks in the Healers care before they could begin training, which now consisted mainly of weapons training. Academic pursuits were only concentrated on in the early evening, before dinner and only for a mark or two. The Trainees had to worry about staying alive before they could worry about delivering justice.

The average age of the trainee was also dropping. Many believed this was because there was not enough time to let them grow before being Chosen, that Heralds were needed immediately. Others, like Alberich and Elspeth, believed there was another reason. They believed that in a few years, the time would be ripe to overthrow Ancar. Trainees were being Chosen at a younger age so that they had time to learn more, to become better Heralds and be able to take up the great task left to them, to free Valdemar.


	2. Morna

Chapter 1

"Morna!"

"Mama! Mama!"

"Morna, come back here!"

Ancar's soldiers had started to burn the village by now. All Desidra was interested in was finding her last surviving child and running to safety. All the other villagers were running, screaming and dying around them. Desi knew she did not have much time to save her child and threw all the energy she could into her legs, hoping to reach Morna before the soldiers came and killed her last child. The little girl had stopped by the village well, tears sliding down her grubby cheeks, her hands clasped to her mouth where she chewed nervously on a small fist.

            "Morna, baby, come here! Now!"

            Morna stood, frozen, wanting desperately to run to her mother, but could not. Her fear stopped her every time she tried to run forward. The entire village was aflame now, burning with a roar that sucked the oxygen out of the air and a heat the crisped any exposed skin. Her tears evaporated before they could slide more than halfway down her cheeks.

            Desi was almost to her baby girl when the soldier cut her down from behind. She tried to continue forward, desperate to save her daughter, but found she could no longer move her legs. The soldier was striding toward Morna now and Desi screamed in desperation, begging Morna to move, begging the gods for help. As she was beginning to fade, help arrived in the form of a white blur with four slashing hooves. The Companion reared in front of Morna and came down on the soldier, turning him into a red mush that was quickly churned into the mud. As the last breath flew from her body, Desi watched as her daughter somehow scrambled on the back of the Companion, was carried away to a fate just a perilous as before.

            :_Incoming!_:

            Kantor's yell jerked Alberich's attention away from his trainees, who were currently engaged in a rousing game of Hurlee, which Alberich had resurrected for skirmish training. Before he could even think of reacting, Kantor was at his side, slowing enough for Alberich to mount on the fly, then galloping off again. The trainees, drilled well, automatically took off to the trees on their Companions, scattering in predetermined directions and heading back for the village.

            :_What is it?_:

            : _Ceridwyn is back._:

            :_Choose, she did?_:

            :_Yes._:

            Kantor broke off as Ceridwyn came into view. Alberich strained his eyesight to the limits, but he could not see her new Chosen. She had slowed from her ground-eating trot to a gentle walk, doing her best to avoid rough spots in the terrain. His heart sank. Alberich was intimately familiar with the pace Ceridwyn was using now. He had seen it so many times in the past few years. It was the pace a Companion used to avoid jarring an injured rider.

            :_Not again…_:

            Alberich was not sure who had spoken, and at the moment he did not care. Kantor sidled up to Ceridwyn and Alberich received his first look at the newest of the Heraldic trainees.

            :_By the Bright One, but a baby, she is._:

            :_Four or five, Ceri says._:

            :_Why so young? Never this young, Chosen are. Even now._:

            He would have mistaken the bundle to be a cloak if he had not been told it was a child. The little girl was unconscious, and, when Alberich gently lifted her in his arms, he discovered her to be barely breathing. Her tiny body was covered in burns that made his scars ache in sympathy. She was a beautiful little girl under the burns, but he had no doubt that her beauty would be tempered by scarring much like his own. What was left of her hair was rich, dark brown and her unburned skin was of a copper coloring that he imagined was much liked the fabled Shin'a'in. The child whimpered weakly has he tucked her in closer and wrapped his cloak around her, hoping to protect her burns from even more contamination.

            :_Easy, childling_: he whispered in her mind. Much to his surprise, she weakly responded.

            :_Papa?_:

            He did not know how to respond to that, so he avoided the question entirely. If she believed him to be her father at the moment, then it would ease her fear and would only help. :_You are safe. Rest._:

            Her small hands clenched in his leathers, and he winced in sympathy as burned skin sloughed off. Alberich wanted to make her let go in order to protect her skin from any more damage, but knew making her let go would just hurt her even more. The little girl's body went completely limp against him and Kantor took advantage of her relapse into unconsciousness to surge forward into a cantor, hoping to get her to the Healers before she gave in and flew to the Havens.

            "What have you got for us, Alberich?"

            Devan strode briskly into the room behind Alberich and went straight to the bowl and pitcher against the far wall to wash his hands. The room was a far cry from the easily cleaned and highly sanitary rooms of the Healers' Collegium. Like all tree-huts, the room was round, but, unlike the other huts, this room had no windows. Since glass was nonexistent, windows were usually holes with furs and tree branches to cover them. As this was exactly the wrong thing to have in a sickroom, the Healers had avoided them. Instead, they had colonized a type of glowing moss to grow on one wall of the sickroom. As the moss happened to have pesticidic properties, the Healers had seen no reason to discourage it when it had initially started growing in the huts. When it was later discovered to sweeten the air and provide light, as well as not introduce new germs in the atmosphere, the Healers had praised it as a miracle and attributed to the strange goings-on of the Sorrows.

The bed was merely a well-padded pile of furs in a bed-box of rough construction. Standing around the room, along the curving wooden walls, was a washstand and cabinets containing supplies gathered and gleaned over the years. It was at times like this that Alberich sorely missed the well-supplied Collegium, especially the lambs-wool padding for the burn patients. Healing the little girl would be hard enough at the Collegium. Here, it was going to be a daunting challenge that would require all the strength and ingenuity they had to spare.

The Healer's robes were no longer the crisp, professional Greens that all Healers had previously worn. It was dangerous for the people of Valdemar to trade with Heralds, so Heralds did not endanger their lives any more than needed. Instead, they hunted in the Sorrows and tanned hides to make leathers for their clothes. Whites were tucked away for the vague future in which Heralds would ride back into Haven and would need to be recognized. For now, everyone wore highly practical and easy to disguise leathers.

            "A new Trainee. Badly burned, she is."

            "Let's take a look."

            Alberich had perched on the edge of the bed, knowing the chances of getting the little girl to let go of him anytime soon were slim. Devan pulled back Alberich's cloak and hissed at the sight of her wounds.

            "We'll need more Healers, not to mention a mind-Healer to see if we can't get her to let go. I suggest you make yourself comfortable, Alberich. You're going to be here awhile."

            Not finding a reason to argue with him, Alberich merely leaned back against the wall, making sure the little girl was as comfortable as possible, and began the waiting game.

            Several marks later, Alberich was heartily tired of Healers and the little girl had yet to let go, in spite of all their efforts. He was still fighting the sneaking suspicion that he was going to become the child's "protector" as it were. Most of the younglings had attached themselves to a Herald and looked to them as a parental figure. This little girl was obviously meant to be his, even if his mind was fighting with the concept. _As soon as they get her to let go, I can go get some sleep.  I will see her when she heals and begins training. That is it._

            Devan finally leaned back with a sigh and rubbed his aching back. His face was pinched and gray with exhaustion, and his hands shook as he gently stroked the remaining locks of the little girl's hair away from her bandaged face. Alberich's vague memories of his own experiences in the Healers' hands lent him an all too realistic idea of what the little girl would be going through in the next few weeks. Devan had concentrated his energy and the energy of the other Healers on the worst of the burns but they still had a long way to go.

            "All right." Devan's voice dragged Alberich back to the present. "Let us see if you can beat this, Morna, my girl." They had learned her name when the Mind-Healer had tried to convince her earlier to let go. Devan carefully placed his hand on her forehead and frowned in concentration. Abruptly her hands relaxed and the larger, gentle hands of the Healers all reached down at once to pick her up. Alberich rolled off the bed and they laid her back down while still other Healers quickly poulticed her hands. Devan allowed his concentration to relax and Morna's little hands clamped back down, this time on the poultices.

            Alberich stood beside the bed and stretched out stiff muscles as he watched the Healers finish fussing over her, arranging blankets and medicines just so.

            "What did you do?"

            "Hm?" Devan looked up from his frowning contemplation of the tiny figure on the bed. "Oh, I used my Gift to force her muscles to relax. I would rather not resort to that, as it would have been better for her to realize she was in a safe place and did not need to cling, but it was necessary."

            The other Healers finished cleaning up and quietly left the room, leaving Devan and Alberich with Morna. Alberich shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, rubbing a shoulder, then scratching his neck, all things he had wanted to do for the past hours. Then he broke down and asked the question that had been plaguing him.

            "Will she live?"

            "Oh, yes. With a will like that, it would be impossible not to. It will be hard for the next few weeks, but I am betting on her. She'll have scars though. Not as bad as yours, but they will be there."

            "Get me, you will, if she wakes up?"

            Devan smiled gently, recognizing the conflict in the quiet warrior. "You will be the first to know."

            Alberich nodded decisively. "Good." Then he strode out the door, forcing himself to not look back.

            "Alberich, wake up."

            The hand on his shoulder startled him and he automatically reached for his sword, surprised someone had come so close as to touch him without waking him up.

            "Whoa, easy."

            The figure jumped back out of range of Alberich's sword, carefully avoiding the sleeping bodies of trainees. Every Heraldic teacher lived in a large hut with a handful of Trainees, keeping an every present and watchful eye on the students. The Trainees were considered far more precious than any commodity or fully trained Herald. They were the people who would carry on the mission and so were protected at any cost and were under constant supervision. All the students in any one particular hut were year mates, and they all lived with the same Herald throughout their training. The group living with Alberich was the Trainees that arrived last year, currently ranging in age from ten through thirteen. It was a relatively large class of twelve students and so they had commandeered the largest hut. It was comfortably cluttered with beds, clothes, weapons and brightly colored hangings and pillows. While the outside of the huts must blend in with the forest around them, the insides could be as wild as the occupant. This class had gone wild with the decorating. In full sunlight the results often made Alberich's eyes hurt.

            Leathers had been dyed and painted to depict dramatic scenes from their favorite tales, most of which they had learned from each other and Alberich. The hut was a cultural mixing ground with something contributed by every Chosen. The crowning glory was a quilt made from clothing they had outgrown. It was unfinished, as they added to it every time they outgrew some clothes. The center was a riot of colors, but the outer edges were the muted leathers they had grown into. The Trainees kept it up with the idea of using it as a timeline of their lives, hoping to one day finish it with a white border. What touched Alberich about the quilt was the centermost panel. It appeared brown at first glance, but closer inspection showed it was made from blood spattered Whites. They were Alberich's, from Soulkiller. The Trainees believed it was their start, so they started the quilt with it.

            "Alberich?"

            The nighttime visitor dragged his attention back to current events and he took himself sternly to task for allowing himself to drift. He was now recognizing Skiff in the darkness and he allowed his sword to droop back down. The thief was thin now, made gaunt from his grief over the death of Talia and Dirk as well as the hardships they had all faced in the past years.

            "What is wrong?"

            "It's Morna."

            Alberich immediately rolled out of his pile of furs and began pulling on boots. Skiff moved further out of the way and continued speaking.

            "She's having some kind of night-terror. The Healers can't get her to calm down. They're hoping your presence will bring her out of it."

            "Then with her, I shall be."

            He rose, strapping on his sword belt and striding soundlessly from the hut onto the landing, then turned back to Skiff. "Stay with the younglings, you will? Their own nightmares, they have. They need someone to be with them when they awake."

            Skiff nodded wordlessly before ducking back into the hut. Alberich hurried along bridges, being sure to not rustle any branches and disturb the light sleepers of the village as he passed. The Healers Collegium was not far away. Both the Healers and the Trainees were located in the center of the village for maximum protection. He could hear Morna's screams even before he could see the hut they were keeping her in.

            Alberich pushed through the double sets of furs and branches covering the doorway to keep the glow of the moss inside the hut and not reveal the location of the hut. The Healers were standing by the bed helplessly as the tiny figure thrashed, knowing restraining her would only hurt her more. Myrium, the Mind-Healer, was seated on the side of the bed, sweat running down her face as she frowned in concentration. She broke her trance when she sensed Alberich entering the room.

            "She is dreaming and she is terrified." Her quiet, husky voice penetrated Morna's screams better than a parade ground below. "I cannot get her wake up and I cannot ease her fears. You try." She grabbed his hand and drew him to the side of the bed, then pushed him down. "She is attached to you, believes you will keep her safe. She needs you to slay her monsters before she can rest."

            Alberich regarded Morna, feeling just as helpless as the Healers must have felt. He had no idea of what to do.

            :_Do what Myrium says to do. Slay her monsters._: Kantor's voice was calming in the back of his mind.

            :_How do I do that?_:

            :_Go in her mind and enter her dream. Slay her monsters._:

            Alberich gave a mental shrug. :_Worth a try, it is._: He dropped his shields and sank into Morna's mind. What he saw in there frightened even him. The attack of soldiers on a person's village was traumatic for an adult. Through the eyes of a four year old, it was a horrific event that nightmares were made of. The soldiers became creatures made of flame that killed anything they touched. Through her eyes, Alberich watched first her father die, then her siblings, then her mother. Only in this dream, Ceridwyn did not coming riding to the rescue. The soldiers continued to come after Morna, intent on killing her also. Before he knew what he was doing, Alberich's dreamself was striding forward, sword in hand. With one swing, the soldier was "dead". Realizing what Kantor had been talking about, Alberich grimly worked through her dream world, "killing" all the monsters her mind could come up with. By the end of the dream, he was exhausted and Morna's dreamself had been reattached to him.

            When he opened his real eyes, Morna was clasped in his arms and only Devan remained in the room, tucked into a corner and watching him with level eyes. Alberich's arms were shaking from strain and his leathers were sweat drenched.

            "Welcome back to the land of the waking."

            Devan's voice brought him fully back to reality and he turned, trying to put Morna back down on the bed. His arms, however, seemed to be locked in position, unable to let her go.

            "Perhaps, a good time this would be, for you to use that trick on me that you used on her." He indicated Morna with a nod of his head. Devan shook his head.

            "I think Morna would be better off tonight if you slept with her. Your presence is what keeps her calm and I have the feeling I would have to wake you in a mark for another nightmare."

            Alberich pondered that for a moment, then lay down on the bed, tucking Morna against his chest. Sleep was already pulling at him and he fought it for a moment. "Sleep here, I believe, a good idea would be." Then he stopped fighting and allowed exhaustion to pull him down.


	3. Invasion

My spell check seems to like replacing "Ancar" with "Ankara". I think I've caught most of them, but I might have missed some. Sorry!

Chapter 2

            The next few weeks showed a side of Alberich few ever saw. Morna became Alberich's constant companion, even though the child could not walk. The first two weeks were spent in Healer custody, Healing the worst of her burns and easing her nightmares. She still panicked whenever Alberich was not where she could see or hear him, but her nightmares began to gradually ease to the point Alberich could sleep in a separate bed a few feet away from hers. She still could not walk after two weeks because the burns on her feet were still healing, but the Healers released her into Alberich's custody anyway. Their limited resources were needed for her year mates.

            Ten Companions left to Choose around the same time Morna's Ceridwyn had left and the Heralds began preparations for the new class, anticipating a large group. They spent the weeks building new huts to house the new Heralds and scrounging food and clothing for the new Trainees. Only three Companions returned. All three Chosen were currently in Healer custody and the outlook was grim. In the face of so much work, the Healers had released Morna into Alberich's custody, trusting him to continue caring for her.

            Alberich also began taking on the duties he had left to his assistants while dealing with Morna. When the Heralds had fled for the Sorrows, they had taken large groups of villagers with them that could not get out of Valdemar. Among them were many pregnant women and women with young children. After Alberich had mustered up the courage to ask them how they carried their non-mobile children, they had, amid much teasing, taught him to wrap Morna in blankets and us another one to strap her to his back or use a blanket to prop her on his hip.

They had also fussed over Morna, which she took to shyly, often blushing and hiding her face in Alberich's shoulder, pulling the blanket up over her head and hiding the stubby hair and still pink burns. Eventually one of the women had coaxed Morna to show her face. Instead of gasping and drawing away at the sight of her burns, the woman had merely praised has as a beautiful child while tying a colorful scarf over the little girl's hair.

"There now," she had said after she finished knotting the scarf. "We can see your pretty little face now and you don't have to worry about getting leaves in your hair."

After that, Morna was no longer afraid of showing her face in public. She also became the pet of the hut. All the Trainees took turns helping Alberich to strap her to his back with the blanket and they usually entertained her in the evenings when he had to meet with the other teachers. A week passed and Morna's year mates continued to hold onto life, even though many speculated that their Companions were responsible for them being alive. The outlook improved, for many believed if they made it a week, then surely they would survive. Exactly three weeks after Morna had arrived in the camp, the first of her year mates died.

Alberich had not even begun to train the lad that died, did not even know him because the lad had never regained consciousness, yet all the same, he felt the familiar pain tear through him. It was evening and all the Trainees were gone from the hut, gathered in the central hut that was illuminated by many covered lanterns for academic pursuits under Myste. Alberich was taking the time for some well-deserved rest, a covered lantern of his own illuminating a well-worn copy of a book about famous war-heroes, which he kept hidden with a few other prized possessions. Morna was tucked into the bed next to him, having fallen asleep there during their evening story from a book of fairy tales one of the Trainees had brought with her from home. Her bandages were gone now, having been dispensed with that evening. She was now cleared to begin light exercises to reteach her how to walk and to restore her former limberness. They would begin those exercises tomorrow while the rest of the Trainees worked through their drills. For now, she was sprawled limply on her stomach, half on him, mouth open and drooling all over his soft, worn shirt. Her warm weight was more comforting to him than he would ever admit, so he did not move her, merely tucked a fold of the blankets under her face so his shirt would not be as wet. He would move her when the other Trainees returned and they all readied for bed.

Abruptly, she stiffened and her eyes flew open. Her pupils were wide, unfocused, and all the color had fled from her face. Alberich felt a prickling on the back of his neck as she sat up, as if she were pulled up by string, then began trembling like a leaf in the wind. He put his book aside and sat up, touching her back with one gentle, calloused hand. His touch seemed to ease whatever was bothering her because she slumped back as abruptly as she had risen, all her weight leaning against his hand on her back. Her eyes drooped closed and she relaxed back into the exhausted limpness only children could manage on a regular basis. The prickling on the back of his neck eased and he felt himself relax with it.

:_Just a nightmare_: he Sent to Kantor when queried. Then he felt the familiar soul-pain that could only be the death of a fellow Herald. With it came the knowledge. It was not "just" another Herald, it was one of the Trainees, the worst of Morna's year mates. Her class was down to two Trainees, the smallest class ever. He lowered Morna back to the bed, then leaned forward, resting his head in his hands as despair settled over him. Their numbers were dwindling. If they were ever going to overthrow Ancar, they needed a huge number of Heralds, yet it appeared as if Ancar was going to win and destroy Valdemar forever.

A tiny hand on his back jerked him from his despair, and he glanced behind him into the large, dark sleepy eyes of a delicate little girl who had yet to speak or walk. He felt her mind, a tiny thing that was nebulous with possibilities, as yet unformed in its adult capacity, reach out and touch his. It gave Alberich a sense of awe every time he touched her mind or the mind of any other young child. Heraldic parents often instinctively reached out to their children with their minds, many times even before the children were born. The result was a child that was much more stable and the child knew without a doubt how much his parents loved him. Alberich had little opportunity to touch the minds of children, as he usually did not see them until they were Chosen. By then, their minds were usually fully formed. However, with the decreasing age of the average Trainee, Alberich was becoming more and more familiar with the minds of children, and they still never ceased to surprise him with their simplicity yet inherent complexities.

He was almost hyperaware of how every little thing he said or did affected those forming minds and found himself wishing more than ever that Talia were still alive. She would have been fascinated with watching and feeling those little minds form, and she would have been invaluable in making sure the children grew up with as much security as possible in such uncertain times. As Morna pulled herself around front of him and made herself comfortable in his arms, he realized that even though they were lacking in the number of friends in the outside world and experienced losses greater than any other child, these Trainees were blessed in another way. They were all loving individuals, as exhibited by the way they attached themselves to their Heraldic teachers and each other. There was a bond there that few people ever experience, and while their lives once they left the village on a mission would be hair-raising and contain an unprecedented degree of danger, their life in the village more than made up for it. Just as the warm little body snuggling in his arms and the tiny little mind settling against his made up for all the worry and pain he had experienced in the last few years. As he settled back in his furs after blowing out his lantern, tucking the furs around Morna's body, he realized that he had gone and done it. He had become wrapped around the finger of a little girl with stubble for hair and liquid brown eyes. And, as he felt her wriggle around on his chest, looking for her favorite spot and finding it, he realized she knew it.

The next day was a drizzly affair, making training a sloppy mess, but they had to train, no matter what the weather. Alberich had decided to put off Morna's first day of training until the evening, when the hut would be empty and there would be plenty of room for her to move around while learning to walk and stretching her muscles. For now, she was plopped onto the saddle in front of him, wrapped back up in blankets and tucked inside his cloak so she would stay warm and dry. However, he had determined that Morna would not spend the day merely observing the Trainees as she had been. Wondering if the reason she did not talk was merely physical, instead of mental, he had begun teaching her a form of sign language used in the Karsite armies, and, too his amazement, she was picking it up fairly quick. He made a mental note to have the Healers check her out as he taught her the sign for "horse", then adjusted her seat on Kantor and straightened her back so she was sitting straight once again. Just because she could not walk did not mean she could not ride, and Alberich intended to teach her the basics of traveling a-Companion-back today, as soon as the drizzle died down. Ceridwyn was with them, as usual, but today she was saddled and bridled. Morna had noticed the change and realized what it meant. She was fairly bouncing in Kantor's saddle in excitement. Then she froze, cocking her head.

Alberich had learned a while back that Morna had superior senses. She heard, smelled and saw everything before any else did, and he was beginning to wonder if those were not the only senses she was superior in. He kept his "thickest" shields up at all times because Morna tended to pick up on the slightest thought and react to it. That lesson had been learned when he thought about using his knife to cut off the few remaining long locks of hair on her head to make it even with the rest. It had taken him three marks to convince her to pull her head out from under the covers. Now he concentrated with his own senses, hoping to figure out what was disturbing her. She looked up at him with humorless eyes and signaled the first sign he had taught her, "enemy."

He did not question her. Instead he blew a shrill whistle and the Trainees scattered, heading back for the village. Kantor wheeled and galloped into the trees, followed by Ceridwyn. As Kantor ran, adroitly avoiding trees, Alberich caught a glimpse of the enemy. They were Ancar's soldiers and were not even trying to hide it. Morna had heard the scouts as they moved past the Trainees, hoping to lead the main group around them in a pincer maneuver and cut them off from the village so they could not send back word. He did know how far back the main army was, but he hoped the Trainees managed to avoid it and the scouts on their way back to the village.

Morna was strangely silent in front of him, holding on to the saddle and moving with Kantor as he had taught her earlier. She seemed to be concentrating on something, but he could not tell what, and when he touched her mind he was surprised to encounter shields. He felt Kantor's mind follow his and equal surprise when his mind bumped against the shield.

:_She learns frighteningly quick._: Kantor's mind had an edge of uneasiness to it Alberich had never heard before.

:_There is much strangeness to this child. She is a key to Ancar's downfall._:

:_We will need to talk about this later. Let us concentrate on the problem at hand._:

Whatever Morna was concentrating on was not doing anything to harm anyone at the moment, so he left her to it and concentrated on getting her back to the village. When they arrived, Alberich was relieved to see all of the Trainees had made it back safely. The village was arming up, pulling all ropes and ladders leading to the huts off the ground and Heralds were swarming over the ground, setting strategically placed traps before hurrying off to predetermined hiding places from which they would ambush the soldiers. As all the ropes and ladders had been pulled up, Alberich was forced to keep Morna with him. However, rather than risk her getting hurt on the ground, he quickly gathered her up and climbed a broad tree with wide-spreading branches. When he reached as high as the branches would support him, he tucked Morna into the bend of a branch, between it and the trunk, then used her blanket to tie her to the tree. She screwed up her face in an expression that had become extremely familiar to him over the past weeks, and he silenced her with a finger to her lips before she could begin crying.

"Morna, hush. Quiet, you must be, if the soldiers are not to find you. Stay here, you must. Here!" He pointed his finger down at the branch she sitting on for emphasis. "No crying. Quiet." Then he drew his cloak off his shoulders and covered her, as much for protection from the soldiers as protection from the drizzle. The cloak was dyed and layered to blend in with the forest and would keep her safe. Then he hurried back down to the ground to wait.

The first warning they had of the soldiers' coming was their curses. Sorrows was fighting the soldiers as much as the Heralds would soon be fighting. Vines snarled legs and thorns worked their way through armor. Animals ran amok amid the soldiers, bucks goring some, smaller animals chewing through laces on armor. Sorrows was also paying for the fight against Ancar's soldiers. Animals were slaughtered by the dozens and the surrounding forest would have been torched if it had not been for the constant drizzle. Eventually, they made it through the village perimeter and stumbled into the traps. They were as dangerous as the animals. Some were pits with sharpened spikes in the bottom, other traps triggered rains of large rocks and logs. The traps took out many, but not enough. The group still numbered close to 200, and only 53 Heralds were alive to fight them.

Alberich forced himself to concentrate on the soldiers and ignore Morna above him. She, the other Trainees and the villagers would be safe. The trees were too big to chop down and the soldiers had no way of climbing up. Morna was not mobile enough to get herself out of the tree and would remain there until help came, if it ever did. As the soldiers charged into the village proper, the Heralds attacked. The fighting was fast and furious, all slashing swords and hooves. The Heralds were fighting for everything they held dear, and nothing would stand in their way, but however fierce they fought, they were still vastly outnumbered. Alberich was working with two long daggers now, finding in these tight confines the disadvantages virtually disappeared. He and Kantor used the trees as shields and a well-placed hoof or dagger exacted the same amount of damage as a sword and did not get tangled up with trees and other vegetation. His daggers were a blur as he fought, blocking sword thrusts and taking out as many soldiers as he could. The Heralds' dull brown leathers were now all a uniform red and blood mixed with drizzle and mud to drip down Alberich's face. He had long ago lost the strip of leather holding his dark gray hair into a neat queue and it stuck to his face and flew around him as he whirled, taking out a soldier trying to hamstring Kantor. The soldiers were closing in on him and he began to realize that the Heralds would not last much longer when he felt a familiar tingling on the back of his neck.

:_What…_:

Then soldiers began to fall all around him for no apparent reason. They just collapsed with no serious wound on them. The ground around Alberich began to clear of soldiers and he received his first real glimpse of the center of the village. There stood Morna, clad in her little leathers that had been made for her and new fur-lined boots. She had lost her scarf and the stubble that had begun to curl was soaking wet in the drizzle. Her skin was deathly pale and mud and blood dripped down her tiny, scarred face as soldiers began falling around her. The ring around her expanded, merging with rings of collapsing soldiers around the other Heralds. An odd breeze issued from each collapsing soldier and blew towards Morna, where still more breezes whirled around her, then entered her delicate body. She swayed a bit every time a breeze hit her and she was trembling with such a force Alberich was surprised she did collapse with the soldiers.

He began to instinctively move toward her, wanting to protect her, but was stopped by rough hands grabbing his shoulders and hauling him back.

"Don't touch her!" Devan yelled in his ear. "She'll kill you if you touch her!"

"Collapsing, she will be, if I do not go to her!" Alberich began struggling and other hands began hauling him back. "Release me!"  He fought like a madman until someone tackled him to the ground and Devan knelt by him, having to yell over the increasing shriek of the wind.

"Listen to me, Herald Alberich! She will kill you if you touch her! She has a Gift unlike any I've seen before and it will kill you if you get too close to her. She could never live with that!"

"Too small, she is!" Alberich shouted back. "Killing her, it is!"

Devan shook his head emphatically. "She is made to do this, Alberich. This is her Gift. She might suffer for the next few days, but she will not die."

"What Gift, this is? Life, to take? Gift, it not is. Curse, it is!"

The winds died and Alberich looked up from his argument with Devan in time to see Morna collapse to the ground with the little whimper. He surged upward against the hands restraining him and they let go on Devan's signal. Alberich paid them no heed, jumping over bodies and running to the tiny figure collapsed in the middle of a pile of bodies. He could hear her whimpering, trying to get away from the bodies and not being able to move. She looked up from the bodies when he arrived at her side and her tears almost broke his heart. He gathered her up as her whimpers erupted into full-fledged sobs, shaking her small body so hard it felt like she was going to break. Alberich knelt there, amid the bodies, and rocked the little girl sobbing in his arms, held her head when she began retching, then continued rocking her until she fell asleep, murmuring nonsense in Karsite the entire time. He was unaware of the Heralds that had gathered around, giving them plenty of space and staring at the little girl that had killed so many. When her sobs quieted and she went limp, her face creased in pain, he rose to his feet, and began looking around for a clean cloak, belatedly realizing that he was covering her in more blood. Then he realized he was being watched and he stood straight, meeting the eyes of every Herald there, and, seeing the blatant distrust of Morna, growled harshly.

"But a frightened child, she is. No threat to you, she is. Saved your life, her Gift did. Do not With that he turned and carried her away.take then scorn. The right way, it is not. The Heraldic way, it is not."


	4. Protector

Chapter 3

            The villagers were quiet that night as they camped as far away from the carnage as the Companion herd could carry them. The highest-ranking Heralds, which had become Elspeth's council, gathered around a central fire to discuss their options.

Alberich was there, along with Myste, who leaned contentedly against him. Morna was snuggled in her favorite blanket and snoozed against Myste, her second favorite Herald. Alberich had carried her all night as they traveled, and had also been vomited on a few times as Morna's reaction headache was debilitating in the extreme. Devan had finally managed to get some tea down her, and it had solved the vomiting problem. Alberich's old tunic was now buried quite a few leagues back in the direction they had come.

Seated around the circle with Alberich, Elspeth, Myste and Morna were Elcarth, Keren, Teren, Sherril, Jeri and Herald Eldan, a spy that had reported back from the Karsite border just in time for Soul Killer. They were all just as mud and blood spattered as before and exhaustion created gray complexions and heavy eyes. Elspeth yawned and rubbed her face, then blinked several times, trying to clear the fatigue from them. Her eyes rested on Morna for few seconds, watching the little girl scrunch her face and shift in her sleep. There was nothing about the girl's physical appearance to even hint at the catastrophic Gift she housed. She was still thin, despite Alberich's hard work to fatten her back up, and her scars were still angry and red. Devan assured them that her scars would fade over the years, never leaving her completely, but not as noticeable. Her complexion was still pale underneath her golden color, and Elspeth feared the first illness that swept through the Village would destroy her and any hopes they had of taking Valdemar back. Alberich reached over and smoothed a hand over her hair with an expression Elspeth had never seen on his face, much less believed he could produce. Morna quieted instantly, shoving a fist in her mouth to chew, and Myste smiled softly at Alberich. Elspeth wanted to smile, but restrained herself.

:_Well, there's something I never thought I'd see_.: she  commented to Gwena instead.

:_What, the Great Stone Heart being soft?_:

:_More than that. He's gone and found himself a family._: Then she chuckled to herself. :_ I feel bad for any of Morna's future suitors._:

Gwena chuckled with her. :_ I can just see it now. "My little girl, you wish to court? My sword, on which you wish to find yourself impaled._:

:_Poor, poor suitor. Maybe she'll get lucky and find a lifebond. Then Alberich wouldn't be able to scare the poor person off._:

:_I don't know. Alberich can be very scary. He might be able to delay it, if he wanted to. Alberich is smart, though. I wouldn't fight a lifebond._:

:_She'll need it._:

She felt Gwena's perplexity. :_Why do you say that?_:

:_We're about to single-handedly ruin this child's life. We haven't even talked about it, yet we all know she is the key to saving Valdemar. She won't have a life beyond training for her "ultimate destiny". It seems so cruel._:

:_There, you are wrong. She already has a life beyond training. Alberich loves her with everything he has and will see to it that she has a good life and is not constantly under pressure. It will wear at him, knowing what her future is and worrying, but he will handle it. He was made for it._:

Elspeth felt her own curiosity stirring. :_Is there something there I should know about?_:

:_I have already told you too much._:

Elspeth heaved a mental sight. :_Right. Never could get a secret out of the Companions._:

Instead of trying to drag the information out of Gwena, Elspeth clapped her hands briskly and captured the attention of her inner circle.

"All right, people, we need to discuss options here. Obviously Sorrows can no longer protect us. Where do we go?"

There was an uncomfortable silence around the circle broken by the shuffles of feet and Eldan shifting the wood in the fire with a stick. Then he sat up and grinned crookedly. "Well, one thing is for sure."

"What's that?"

"We can't go to Karse."

There were general chuckles and Alberich joined in, despite the disparaging of his home country.

"What about Rethwellen?"

The suggestion came from Jeri and Elspeth shook her head vigorously.

"We shouldn't be talking about leaving Valdemar at all people. If we do, Ankara wins." Elspeth's voice was pitched low in spite of the obvious anger contained in it. "He will not run us out of Valdemar."

"Perhaps, pride is talking." Eyes turned to Alberich and Elspeth raised an eyebrow at her old arms teacher. "Win, Ankara does not, if we leave. Back, we will come, when stronger, we are."

"Alberich is right." Elcarth's voice drew Elspeth's eyes to him. He had aged rapidly in the last few years and she was amazed he had made it as far as he had. "We need to go somewhere we can raise and train the young heralds in peace, where they won't be killed for being Chosen. At this rate, the Heralds will be killed off before Morna is old enough to even think about Internship."

Elspeth rubbed her hands over face again and growled in her throat. "How can we take Valdemar back when we aren't even here? Ankara will know we are gone and he will go wild, destroying everything. I can't let him do that to Valdemar!"

"Elspeth, listen." Karen was speaking now. "Valdemar is its people and they are gone! There are some left here and there, but we can't help them. Ankara is already running loose through the country and those that could leave already fled. We need to think about the children, Elspeth, the Trainees. More and more are dying. Morna and one other are all that is left of the latest class."

"She's the only one left of her class." Heads turned again as Devan dragged himself to their fire and slumped onto the ground beside Myste. "Her classmate just died."

Breaths gusted out as the circle slumped and the implications of this news settled in.

"We have to leave." Elspeth voice was tired and quiet. "Where do we go?"

"Rethwellen."

"Rethwellen."

"Rethwellen."

The name traveled around the circle until it reached Elspeth, who nodded. "Rethwellen, it is. We can ask my uncle for-"

"Perhaps, I can be of some help."

A woman stepped out of trees, and Elspeth felt her breath freeze in her chest. She was beautiful, dressed in black with eyes that included no pupil or iris, on a field of stars.

They all rose, and kneeled, except for Myste, who stood but did not kneel due to Morna's weight. The child did was tiny for her age, but it was not possible for Myste to kneel without bruising her knees. When the Star-Eyed moved towards them, Alberich rose and quickly stepped in front of them, blocking her path to Myste and Morna. She smiled gently and held her hands up to show she had no weapons, but that made no difference to him.

"Fierce Alberich, have no worries. I will not harm them."

"Trust you, I do not."

The Shin'a'in Lady looked taken aback for a moment, then she smiled again gently. "They chose right when They chose you to be her protector. Guard her and love her well, Alberich. She will need it." Instead of trying to push past Alberich she turned to face the rest of the group. "You need a place to go, and I have a place to send you. My clans will protect you until the time is right."

Elspeth stepped forward. "Your clans?"

"Yes. I think Tale'sedrin will be a good clan for you. You will blend in there. No one will think anything of it."

"But how will we-" Elspeth broke off as a white light bloomed and grew intensely bright, everyone to wince and cover their eyes, then faded. They all stood in a field of long grass under a sky that was strewn with a number of stars that could only be described as awesome. What was even more shocking was the group of people standing before them. A short distance behind them, a group of brightly colored tents could be seen, glowing from the inside to produce a strangely stained-glass effect. A man stepped forward from the group, striding confidently toward them. His hair was long and dark but his green eyes sparkled merrily at the startled group of Heralds and villagers.

"Welcome, friends of Valdemar. I am Kra'heera, of the Children of the Hawk. Be welcome in our clan"

Elspeth swallowed and stepped forward. "Greetings, Kra'heera. I am Elspeth, of Valdemar. We thank you for your hospitality."

Kra'heera grinned. "Good. Now that the formalities are over with, what say you to getting your tired Heralds and villagers settled? We have prepared for you."

Elspeth raised an eyebrow. "Prepared? You knew about us before?"

"Indeed. The Bright Star told us long ago that you would be coming."

"It would have been nice if She had told us," Elspeth grumbled, then jumped in fright as a beautiful black horse strode up to her side and shoved its head against her back.           _:What is wrong, Chosen?_:

:_A rather large black horse wants me to scratch its head. It isn't a warsteed, is it? I've heard some scary things about them._:

:_I have no idea what you are talking about. The only creature with hooves near you is me._:

:_But, you're white, and this creature isn't._:

:_Chosen, I assure you, I am the only creature. Now scratch my head, it itches from all this magic._:

"Oh my…." As Elspeth weakly spoke, Kantor glided up beside Alberich, who also started in shock.

:_My friend? What is wrong?_: Kantor sounded concerned, then he saw himself through Alberich's eyes and snorted in amusement. :_Ah. The Shin'a'in sense of humor can sometimes be skewed. Apparently they get it from their Lady._:

With that, Kantor shook himself and his black coat quickly faded back to the luminous white Alberich was accustomed to. While the rest of the Companions quickly did the same, the gathered crowd of Shin'a'in began chuckling, then began the massive task of organizing an entire village and converting them into Shin'a'ins.

            Alberich's tent was so brightly colored as to hurt his eyes. He did not mind that though, especially since one of the bright designs was of Vkandis Sunlord. Apparently the Lady really had prepared the Tale'sidren for their arrival, and he was becoming more and more grateful for their arrival every moment. Healers had inexplicably flocked to the Tale'sidren camp over the last few weeks and now they swept in, taking over the casualties for the exhausted Valdemaren Healers.

            Morna was currently curled up in a pile of bright blankets, sucking on her fist and sleeping fitfully. Her continued whimpers worried Alberich and had him sitting up late in the night, abstaining from his own comfortable pile of blankets, in spite of his eyes, which tried to close repeatedly. He looked up abruptly as the tent flap was pulled back and a woman with gray-laced black hair ducked through. She was thin and muscular, like most of the Shin'a'in. Unlike most of the Shin'a'in, her palms were soft of any but calluses from riding horses and the bag slung over her shoulder gave him the hint that she was a Healer. Following in her wake was a small boy about the same age as Morna. He was a strongly built little brute, but his ice-blue eyes were big and soft, containing a kindness that belayed any possibility of misuse of the strength given to him. His dark hair was contained in a myriad of braids, like his mother's, except his was short enough for the braids to stick up wildly in every direction. Alberich, who was wondering how he was going to deal with the little girl's hair when it got longer, figure her hair would end up in braids very like the little boy's as soon as it was long enough.

            "You are Herald Alberich?" Her voice was smoky and dragged his wandering attention back to the present. "Greetings. I am Sa'yen, and this is my son, Marek. She is the child Morna?"

            "Yes."

            The little boy, Marek, wandered over from the tent flap and clung to his mama's breeches. He gabled something in a liquid language Alberich assumed to be Shin'a'in, then looked up when his mother smiled down at her son and looked up to Alberich.

            "He says she is very pretty."

            Alberich smiled at the boy. "Thank you."

            Morna's occasional whimper abruptly turned into a full nightmare and Alberich leaned down and scooped her up in his arms before he could even think about it, crooning to her in Karsite. The nightmare did not lesson and he felt his heart give another little twist as tears began running down her tiny face. The gasp of the woman jerked his attention away from Morna.

            "This child is under assault."

            "Assault? How can that be? Right here, with me, she is. Harmed, she cannot be."

            She could not help but smile at his blithe assertion that nothing could hurt Morna as long as he was there, then quickly sobered. "Her spirit is under attack from many evil spirits. I cannot tell what."

            Alberich flashed back on the last time Morna had screamed like this, when he had entered her mind and slew her monsters. "Monsters, they were not."

            The Healer looked at him curiously. "I assure you, these spirits are quite monstrous."

            "No. When Morna arrived, a nightmare she had. A horrible nightmare the mind-Healer believed it to be, and to enter Morna's mind and slay her monsters, I was told. Not monsters, they were?" His question was more of a statement.

            "No. I believe they are the souls of those she kills. She kills by stealing their souls. Instead of releasing them to continue on their journey, she carries them with her. When you slew her monsters, you destroyed the souls so they could not hurt her."

            Alberich was not comfortable with the concept of destroying souls, but as Morna continued to scream and cry in fright, he realized it was something that needed to be done for the survival and sanity of this tiny child. "Then, again, her monsters I shall slay."

            When Alberich came back to himself, sweat drenched and exhausted, Myste was sitting on the ground facing him. Marek had fallen asleep with his head in her lap, clutching a tiny, well-worn, wooden dagger in one fist. When she noticed Alberich was back in his body, she gently lifted the boy and placed him in Morna's pile of blankets. It was then Alberich realized his blankets had been moved until they were next to him.

            "Welcome back, Alberich. Her monsters are no more?"

            "Finally, all dead. Hard fought, hard won, it was. Soul slaying, not made for it, am I."

            Myste helped him to lean back into his blankets and adjust Morna so she was lying more comfortably. "On the contrary, you are the only person who is made for it. Why else would the gods choose you to be her guardian?"

            Alberich snorted. "Some guardian, am I. Put her in a tree, I did, out of trouble, her to keep. But out she gets, and an army she destroys, while on I look. By a child, saved."

            "A wonderful child that needs protecting."

            "His mother?" Alberich weakly motioned towards the boy with his free hand.

            "She needed to tend some other patients and he insisted on staying here and guarding Morna. He says it's his job."

            "Bah! My job, another child does."

"Go to sleep, Alberich. I could take you right now, and then you would really feel like a bad guardian."

            Alberich fell asleep smiling.


	5. Smile

This chapter brought to you by a headache, a case of the midnight munchies and drunken residents.

For all of you that are college bound, here are a few words of advice:

1.) When in doubt, eat like a toddler. A good way to avoid the freshmen 15 is to snack on dry cereal instead of items from the local vending machines. Plus, cheerios don't smear all over your homework.

2.) Drunkstupid. It's even worse if you were stupid before you got drunk.

3.) Your RA can tell if you're drunk, even if you think you are being cool and hiding it. Why? Because, drunks are stupid. That, and the sound of a resident yakking in the bathroom at 2 in the morning either means someone is drunk or has the flu, both of which your average RA is compelled, both out of worry and the urge to laugh at the stupid drunk, to investigate.

4.) The other people in your community will not enjoy the sight of your vomit filled trashcan in the morning because you left it there last night, nor the sounds of your yakking the night before, nor the stories of your drunken misadventures.

5.) A good way to avoid all but number 1 is to just not drink in the first place. It's only fun to the people telling the stories because they were too drunk to realize that it was a really crappy experience.

A note from your friendly, neighborhood Resident Assistant

A/N: As some of you have noticed, I have been playing around with the timeline for this story. I'm pretty sure that the way I want this to happen will disagree with the proper timeline, but here goes. At this point in the game, Kero and Eldan have never met. I've changed some things around and added an alternate plot to make this story fit in. Also at this stage in the game, Morna is in her late teens, early twenties, so this chapter takes place about 15 years after the last chapter. This chapter is kinda short, but is has some cute mushiness. I wanted to use this chapter to set up the relationships for the rest of the story. I realize that Kero probably does not flirt, but I do and I had fun making her flirt. Don't worry, nothing too girly for our kick butt merc!

Chapter 4

The golden grass whipped her long legs through her leather breeches as she ran, nimbly leaping over half-seen obstacles in pursuit of her prey, a nimble grasscat that was destined for her and year mates' cooking pot. She moved easily, breathing controlled and muscles moving smoothly under sweat-sheaned pale skin.

Above the waist she was clad in a brightly embroidered leather corselet that incorporated numerous hiding places for daggers. As she was being trained as a lady when she was not training as a warrior, the corselet served as a training tool to familiarize her with wearing the tight corsets that were now in fashion at court. She owned several such corselets, constructed for her by an armorer in Kata'shin'a'in. They had cost a fair amount, but were worth their weight in gold. She had some modified corsets tucked away that would serve her the same purpose when she arrived at Court. However, being as much Shin'a'in by adoption as Valdemaren by birth, she could not resist decorating her corselets and corsets with vivid embroidery. In keeping with her future transformation into a lady, the Healers made sure to keep her slathered in a potion that prevented her skin from tanning and burning, and her hands were covered in finely made leather gloves to keep calluses from forming too thickly.

Like her corselet, her skin was decorated with brightly colored tattoos. A lady did not normally adorn herself with tattoos, so hers sleeked around her stomach, back and hips, which were hidden under her corselet. Marek's hands were as skilled as his imagination was fanciful, and sea serpents swam with a fish Marek had called koi while flowers blossomed and hawks swooped down on grasscats. Her favorite tattoo, and probably the most dangerous tattoo she could have, was a tiny tattoo done in blue, spelling out Ceridwyn's name in Shin'a'in. That tattoo was located low on her side, blended in with a dragon chasing a koi. Down her spine, in tiny lettering and starting below her shoulder blades, was a Shin'a'in blessing that Marek swore would protect her. The bare spot between her shoulder blades was reserved for a very special tattoo that she would get after she accomplished her mission. It would be of the symbols on Ceridwyn's saddle. For now, it was too dangerous to have that particular tattoo, so she decided it would be a good victory celebration to let Marek do that one.

The scars on her face were nearly invisible after the treatment the Healers had given her over the last few years. She had grown her hair long and stopped using her favored braids so that she could practice styling her hair in the ways Jeri taught her and to hide other scars that were more obvious. The dark brown curls were currently pinned to the top of her head in an effort to keep her cool and comfortable in the dry heat of the Dhorisha plains. Some of the locks were longer than others, the remnants of her childhood. She had refused to let Alberich cut them so vehemently that she was now too attached to them to cut them herself. Those longer locks always remained braided and she had a supply of beads made from different materials to decorate the braids. Today she wore bone beads that had been painted a wild variety of colors and matched the embroidery on her corselet.

At last she cornered the grasscat against some of the bigger rocks on the plains and took careful aim. With a smooth exhalation of breath, she released the arrow that had been knocked on her bow and pegged the grasscat in a perfect shot that killed it instantly. As she drew her dagger and knelt to field-gut it, she heard a whisper of sound and turned, dropping into a defensive stance with the boulder at her back. Marek rose from the grass, grinning, holding out his hands to show them weaponless.

"You are getting better, love."

Morna grinned impishly, which suited her delicate, elfin features perfectly. "I should be, what with all the ambushing you do."

Marek matched her grin with a much broader grin, showing dimples and perfect teeth. His blue eyes sparkled and his dark braids still stuck straight up. The baby fat he had been troubled with all through their early teens had melted away to reveal a stunningly muscular body, which, Morna was proud to say, was her exclusive territory. Marek's short, squat body was also liberally decorated with tattoos, done by his mother. He did not have to hide them, unlike Morna, so they were as wild and exuberant as he was. Hawks decorated his shoulders and warsteeds galloped across his back. Sa'yen's masterpiece, however, was the exact picture of Morna's right hand over his heart. Marek noticed her survey of him, and blue eyes twinkled merrily in his tanned face.

"Mapping your territory?"

Morna smiled crookedly. "Something like that."

"Let's say I do a little mapping of my own?"

With that, he pounced, bringing her to the ground underneath him and began to disarm her. Before they could get too far, a snort brought them back to reality. Morna tilted her head back to meet the disapproving gaze of Kantor, and Alberich's equally disapproving gaze.

"A different prey, I sent you to catch. Too small, this one is. Back, throw him."

Marek grinned cheekily up at Alberich. "Alberich! Do you honestly believe-" He broke off as Morna placed a hand over his mouth. Ever so faintly, she could feel the ground shivering.

"Someone is coming. A lot of someones."

Kantor had raised his head and was sniffing at the wind as Ceridwyn trotted up beside them, followed by a formidable looking old woman on a grey warsteed who was followed by another woman, this one with long blonde hair and green eyes. A large creature Morna had learned from hard experience was called a kyree trotted alongside them.

_:Tarma says to stand down, that it is her clandaughter, Kerowyn, and some of Kerowyn's mercenary friends.:_

"I thought Kerowyn was in Menmelleth or Rethwellen or somewhere like that."

"She was." Tarma's harsh voice no longer startled Morna, not after the days she had spent at the old woman's side, learning her craft. Between Tarma and Alberich, Morna had been thoroughly beaten, taken apart and put back together again until she was a warrior of fine caliber. "Something bad has happened. She would not bring her mercenaries here otherwise."

As Tarma spoke, the riders became visible. The woman Morna pegged to be Kerowyn rode in the lead on a warsteed that looked the worse for wear. The mercenary's armor was damaged in some spots and Kerowyn herself appeared thin and worn. Another rider rode pillion behind her, his head lolling on her shoulder and his hands tied around her waist to keep him from falling off. Her fellow mercenaries were not much better, some with visible bandages, one in particular tied to his horse. Tarma's curse was quiet as she studied the group of about twenty mercenaries, and Morna rose to study them with her own senses when Marek rolled off her.

Kerowyn herself was of much interest to Morna. She had heard tales of Kerowyn from Tarma and the other Shin'a'in. Lately, the only news Morna had heard of Kero had carried an overtone of worry. It seemed that Kero's captain had been killed and another had risen to take his place. When bad leadership lead to a standoff between Kero and the replacement captain, Kero had once again learned that a sword that served women would not let her harm a woman. Now Kero rode with a band of freelance mercenaries that consisted of her friends from her old company that left with her. However, it seemed Ancar's empire building was not to stop with just Valdemar. He was eying Valdemar's neighbors more and more closely, even occasionally making forays.

As Kero's party pulled up to a halt in front of Tarma, Morna was able to see more details of the mercenary and her party. They were in even worse shape than she thought. Kero was listing in her horse's saddle, and if the marks under her eyes were any indication, she was riding in a haze of exhaustion. Her warsteed drooped, and Tarma's Ironheart sidled up to support the pair.

"What happened, Clandaughter?"

"Evil at work happened." Kero's voice was just as harsh as her Clanmother's, and she gratefully took the waterskin Alberich handed over. "Ancar infiltrated Rethwellen. Faram's dead. Local nobility is being overthrown everywhere. Luckily for Daren, we were up there to see him, maybe leach a few jobs off him or a place to stay, since we haven't been able to find a job in the last few months. Never saw it coming."

Tarma's eyes widened as she recognized the previously vibrant and charismatic Daren sagging against Kero. His hair was so blood matted and dirty that she had not realized it was him.

"Sweet, goddess."

Tarma reached out to relieve Kero and Hellsbane of Daren's weight, and Kethry moved up to help and steady Kero. In the end, Alberich had to move in and lift Daren from Kero's mount and settle him in Tarma's arms. The old warrior took his weight with ease, then tried to quickly move forward again as Kero's head lolled abruptly and her weight sagged.

"I have her."

Herald Eldan's Ratha surged forward and he caught the worn mercenary before she had even slumped all the way out of her saddle, pulling her up in front of him and settling her across his own saddle. Her head started to settle on his shoulder, then jerked up and she began to struggle.

"My friends-"

"Will be fine. The others will see to them."

It was only then that Morna realized other Heralds and Shin'a'in had ridden up during the commotion and were seeing to the other mercenaries and their horses.

"Rest." Eldan pushed Kero's head back down to his shoulder, and she did not fight him. Her eyes drooped closed and her body went limp in his arms. Ratha turned back toward the camp and began a smooth walk, careful of holes and rocks. Tarma gazed speculatively at the pair for a moment, then snorted softly and began following the cavalcade back to the tents. Alberich followed, leaving Morna behind with Marek and the dead grasscat.

"Well. 'May you live in interesting times' and all that."

Marek's words drew Morna's attention away from the trail of horses, Heralds, mercenaries and Shin'a'ins and back to him. He grinned cheekily and Morna was struck once again by how physically different they were from one another, yet how well they fit together. His face was chiseled, his jaw wide, his blue eyes glittered and he was built more along the lines of a short wide boulder with an attitude problem. She was tall and thin, as willowy as the plains grass that swayed in the wind. _As unlikely a pair as ever_, she thought, _but we work._ Then Marek shrugged abruptly and turned to finish gutting the grasscat she had dropped.

"Looks like this will all be over sooner than we thought. In the meantime, we need more meat. Those mercenaries looked hungry, and Mother has threatened to roast me one to many times for my own comfort. Let's go do some more hunting."

Unable to disagree with his cheerful logic, Morna shrugged, knocked another arrow, and followed him as he began hiking further out into the plains.

That evening, as Morna slept tucked in with Marek, Kero started awake and sat up with a gasp. She looked around her and reached for her sword at the same time, trying to remember where she was. She was in a large tent that she seemed to be sharing with a multitude of people. While the tent's style was distinctly Shin'a'in, there were several facts that disagreed painfully with her memory of the Shin'a'in lifestyle. One fact was that the tent seemed almost as if it had been constructed from several tents that were sewn together. In one corner, Kero even spotted a stylized Vkandis Sunlord while in another corner, she spotted several Valdemaren gods and goddess. Other designs romped around the tent walls, many of them appearing as if someone other than the original artists had drawn them. A quilt was displayed at one end of the tent that was distinctly non-Shin'a'in. The brownish fabric in the middle was surrounded by brighter colors, then more subdued leathers. The unfinished quilt was now sporting a thick band of even more colorful diamond shaped cloth pieces, almost eye-searingly bright.

The number of bodies in the tent disagreed with the traditional Shin'a'in lifestyle as well. Bodies lay haphazardly around the tent, almost as if they slept where they had collapsed. An older man Kero recognized from earlier in the day looked like he had established a regular spot for himself underneath the Sunlord, along with a woman she had never seen before. Most of the bodies strewn on the carpets and blankets were much younger than herself, and she spotted another pair she vaguely recognized from earlier curled together in way that spoke of comfortable intimacy and routine, as if they had slept in that boneless pile of intertwining limbs every night of their lives.

As Kero watched, a white head that she recognized as belonging to a Companion poked through one of the numerous open panels of the tent. It regarded her for a minute, then winked. Kero blinked, sure the horse had not just winked at her. Then she shook herself, reminding herself just what a Companion was. The Companion lowered its head to rub its velvet soft nose against the cheek of a sleeping youngster. When the lad rolled over, mumbling in his sleep, the Companion looked back up at her with a glint that Kero could only call mischievous in one sparkling blue eye. Then the lad came awake abruptly as the Companion dribbled a carefully aimed glob of green slime in his ear. As Kero's eyes widened and she fought back a gurgle of laughter, the lad sat up and began swearing as the Companion whickered in high humor and cavorted off. The other youngsters merely grumbled and rolled over at the disturbance, obviously used to it by now. The older man cracked an eye open and Kero saw him perform a visual assessment of the tent's residents. When the eye swept to her, it stopped, noticing she was awake. The other eye popped open, then owner of the eyes yawned and stretched before rising from his bedroll, making sure the blankets were tucked in securely around his mate so his body heat did not escape.

He moved easily through the tent, stopping to ruffle the lad's hair and offer a piece of cloth that was smudged in green streaks and obviously well used. The youngster that Kero was now estimating to be around twelve years of age, grinned and accepted the cloth, then began excavating the slime from his ear. The man continued on a circuit of the tent, his long grey hair swinging free about his broad shoulders, and his scarred face did little to hide his affection for the tent's inhabitants. Kero almost grinned when he "accidentally" tripped over the male of the pair that was comfortably entwined, causing him to curse and growl in his sleep before snuggling up tighter to his partner, a willowy brunette with finely honed muscles and a curious lack of a tan. Then the man arrived in front of her.

"Back to the land of the waking, you are. Good, it is, to awake see you."

Kero almost felt her eyes cross as her befuddled brain untangled his words, then she half-smiled.

"Sorry to disturb you."

"No matter, it is. This to drink, Sa'yen says. Gulp it fast, I say. Nasty, undoubtedly it is."

Kero accepted the skin from him, the opened it and sniffed the contents. "Blech."

"Drink, not sniff."

She raised an eyebrow at him, then toasted him with the skin before downing the contents as fast as possible, making a nasty face all the while.

"Healers. Gotta love the foul stuff they come up with." Kero became aware of her intense need for the latrine at that moment, and, after obtaining directions from Alberich, rose to see to that need. Once outside the tent, she nearly tripped over a man she also vaguely recognized from the previous afternoon, a Herald with two white streaks in his hair. He sat up abruptly in his bedroll, muttering something about Sunpriestesses and a hayburner. Then his eyes focused on Kero and she saw him physically jerk awake.

"You're up." His voice was hoarse with sleep.

Kero smiled. "Apparently."

He rubbed at his face and she heard his bristles rasp in the nighttime silence. "Do you need something? Water? Food? I can-"

"Latrine."

"Oh." He seemed embarrassed for a moment, then pointed in the vague general direction of the latrines. "That way. Do you need-"

Kero grinned. "I think I can do that by myself."

"Right." However, he rose from his bedroll and strolled amicably along next to her. She began to wonder if he actually did intend to be present while she relieved herself, but she realized that he actually had no idea what he was doing other than following while he thought up something reasonably intelligent to say to her. Kero could almost hear the mechanics of brain stuttering along, clogged from sleep and, dare she guess, infatuation.

"So."

Kero almost laughed. "So."

"Nice weather we're having, tonight, wouldn't you say?" Eldan mentally kicked himself and endured Ratha's chuckling in his mind.

Kero glanced up at the stars, then smiled and took mercy on him. After all, his struggles to sound normal were almost endearing. "I'd say so. Not too cool, not too hot. Perfect sleeping weather. Especially if you have a partner," she added wickedly. She heard him gulp.

"Right. Um. I'm going to go to bed now. Enjoy your-erm- I mean, I hope you sleep well tonight." He turned and was surprised he did not trip over his own two feet. :_Goodness_: he sent. :_I haven't been like this since I was a lad!_:

Ratha chuckled. :_I think this is worse than when you were a lad._:

Eldan began trudging back to his bedroll, mentally kicking himself with every step he took.

"Wait!" Kerowyn's voice drew him to a stop. He turned, trying to keep the hope from entering his expression. "You never told me your name." Kero forced herself not to blush, realizing this was the first time she had found a man that truly interested her in a number of years. _Blushing! At my age!_

Eldan grinned, then stepped back toward her, holding out his hand. "Herald Eldan. And you are?"

Kero smiled cheekily. "Kerowyn shena Tale'sedrin, free-lance mercenary, at your service. I am pleased to meet you, Herald Eldan." She held her hand out to be clasped in traditional greeting, then felt heat rising in her cheeks as he turned her hand and bowed over it while lightly brushing it with his lips, his dark eyes twinkling up at her.

"As I am pleased you meet you, Kerowyn shena Tale'sedrin. I wish you a good eve."

With that, he rose from his courtly bow and began walking back to his bedroll, careful not to trip this time because he was too happy to feel his feet.

:_Wait for it_: he Sent to Ratha.

:_Wait for what?_:

:_Wait for it…Now!_:

Eldan turned back just in time to catch Kero glancing back over her shoulder at him. She smiled and quickly turned back to watch where she walking, biting her lip to keep from grinning too broadly.

:_She smiled at me!_:

:_Indeed she did._:

:_Ratha, don't you understand what this means?_:

:_I'm sure you will enlighten me._:

:_She likes me!_:

He almost felt Ratha roll his eyes. Eldan grinned, too happy to care about Ratha's exasperation. He found his bedroll and settled into it with a happy wriggle, then folded his hands behind his head and looked up at the stars, still grinning.

:_She smiled at me…_:


	6. Fear

Wow! It's been over a year! I totally didn't realize it! This chapter has some angst in it, but is something Morna and Marek needed to do. Is it me, or does Alberich kinda remind you of Yoda? "Become a Jedi Master, you will." Sorry. Being irreverent is fun.

Standard disclaimer. The "poetry" flirtation between Kero and Eldan is actually a paraphrasing from By the Sword. You all will recognize it. **Rated for extracurriculars!**

----------------------

Chapter 5

"You are a truly horrible person, Jeri."

"Don't blame me; blame the ladies at Court who construct these fashions."

Morna regarded the impossible shoes Jeri had presented her with, and frowned. The shoes were not just shoes, she was convinced. They were specially concocted torture devices made to ruin the feet and legs of women everywhere. The impossibly high heels would throw off her balance so much that she would need special training to be able to fight in them. Not to mention how much sheer agony standing for long periods of time would be.

"How am I supposed to walk in those?"

"Very carefully."

"Ha. Ha."

Marek grinned from where he was lounging against some pillows in Jeri's tent. "Look at it this way, love. You only need to wear them long enough to come into range of Ancar. After that, you can conveniently lose them."

Jeri frowned. The Herald had been aging in the last few years, under the influence of the harsh Plains' weather and the stress of training Morna to be a lady and not having a kingdom to call home. Her brown curls were piled on top of her head in a loose fashion that had somehow managed to resist coming down during Morna's latest bout with her, this one with Morna done up in full court gear. Now the gear had been pulled off in favor of the heat, and Morna was sitting in the middle of the tent, clad only in a comfortable linen shift. Jeri was seated across from her, dressed in vibrant colors that managed to compliment her sun-bronzed complexion.

"At the cost of these shoes, make sure you keep them. We can probably sell them and replenish the Treasury without ever having the people pay any taxes."

Morna winced at the gentle rebuke. "I apologize, Jeri. I should concentrate on the task."

Jeri frowned even harder. "Morna, there is more to you than your Gift. It is expected of a young person's mind to wander occasionally."

"Alberich says that all the time, only backwards."

"Heard that, I did, youngling." Alberich paused in front of the tent, observing them through the open panels. "Pay during training, you will." Then he continued on, as if nothing had ever happened. Marek chuckled wickedly.

"Should I warm up the oil for you tonight?"

Morna nodded glumly. "I will need it."

"Morna." Jeri's voice stopped her as she reached for the shoes. The hesitancy in Jeri's voice surprised her. "Have you thought about the fact that we don't really know what your range is? For all we know we only have to get you within a few leagues of Ancar."

"You know there is no way for me to be that accurate, Jeri. My Gift cannot be trained without causing death. What do you want me to practice on? I still remember that army. I won't have any other souls cavorting around mine unless I have to, whether they are human or animal. I'll risk it."

"How do you feel about this, Marek?"

He tugged on one chunky braid thoughtfully, his startling blue eyes hooded. "I cannot say I like the idea of Morna coming so close to this man. However, it is her destiny, just as it is mine to be with her. Being there with her will make it easier on me. That does not mean that I am not anxious to have this over with. I want to have a life with Morna. A _real_ life."

Jeri nodded thoughtfully and gazed into the distance. Abruptly, she pulled her gaze back to them. "These shoes can wait until tomorrow. Go romp or whatever it is you two do."

Marek grinned cheekily. "Really, Jeri. You should know exactly what—"

"We'll see you in a bit, Jeri," Morna hastily interrupted, quickly shedding the shift, pulling on her breeches and expertly pulling the lacings tight on her corselet. A quick knot secured the lacings while she spoke. "I need to distract this crazy person before he does something he'll regret."

Rising to her feet, she grabbed her boots and weapons harness with one hand and tugged Marek from the tent by his hair with her other hand. Jeri's chuckle followed them as Morna stretched her legs into a sprint and bolted from camp, Marek close behind.

---------------------

"How do you really feel about all of this?"

"Mmm?"

Marek turned his head from his contemplation of the clouds so he could see Morna where she rested with her head on his stomach, her body perpendicular to his. Ceridwyn wandered in the tall grass around them, grazing contentedly. His fingers toyed with Morna's hair, watching as the curls embraced his finger. Morna was only semi-awake, drowsing occasionally in the soothing warmth of the sun as it neared sunset.

"How do you really feel about all of this?" Her voice was drowsy and her eyes were closed.

"It is not my place to have an opinion on it. It is our destiny."

Morna's eyes opened to meet his, then her lids lowered into a potent stare.

"If that isn't the biggest crock I've ever heard, I don't know what is."

He heaved a sigh, putting a crick on her neck for a moment, and turned his now angry gaze back to the clouds. "What do you want me to say, Morna? That I am mad? That I am scared? I am. What I feel, however, has no impact on what will happen. You will still go there and confront this man that I would give anything to kill for you."

Morna rolled over and crawled on her elbows in the crushed grass until her head was even with his. She gently turned his face to hers, cupping his cheek with her left hand and tracing the lines of his face with her right.

"I would give anything," she whispered, "to stay here. But I can't. Every assassin they have sent has not come back. I am the only person who has any chance of making this happen."

"We don't know that. By the Bright Lady, we don't even know if you can pick and choose who dies with your Gift. You have had no training beyond the very basics."

"The woods—"

"The woods was a fluke. For all we know, Vanyel kept your Gift from hurting the Heralds. This plan that the Heralds have been working on so hard, has a poor chance at best of working. I cannot fix this feeling I have inside of me. I am angry that they are committing you to death when I have had so very little time with you. I am angry that you have had no childhood, that you were the one the gods chose, that you train every day for one moment in your life. Tell me, is there one thing you do for no other reason than enjoyment?" Morna did not try to answer. He knew the answer. "Other than Ceridwyn and me, do you have any friends? Your life has been dedicated to this one mission, and as I am eternally linked with you, my life has been dedicated also."

"You don't have to-"

"Hush. I have not regretted one moment I have spent with you." Now he cupped her face with his hands. "I love you, Morna, more than life itself, and I am terrified that soon our time together will be over. When I look at you, I see you are so calm, so accepting, and the anger boils up again." Marek released her face and pushed himself to his feet. He scooped up his tunic and a quick tug settled it back over his head and into place before he turned his back on her and began walking away.

"Marek." Her voice was tight and she sat up now, her heart in her throat. "Why are you walking away?"

"I cannot be here, with you, right now. You asked me how I felt, and I told you. Now I must go battle with these demons." Morna started to rise and froze at the quick shake of his head. "Do not follow me." With that, he moved forward and the tall grass swallowed him.

------------------

_:Enough.:_

"Mmm?"

_:You have been sitting there pitying yourself for the last mark.:_ Ceridwyn tossed her white mane. _:Get on. It's time we went back to camp.:_

"I don't pity myself," Morna muttered as she clambered onto Ceri's back.

_:Oh. I'm sorry. I must have mistaken that look on your face. You must be ecstatic.:_

"Stop being mean."

_:If I were being mean, you would be walking back to camp.:_

"I don't understand it."

_:Understand what. And Mindspeak me. You need the practice.:_

_:Why is he mad that I am "so calm, so accepting" of all of this. What am I supposed to do? Crying won't help.:_

_:Are you calm and accepting.:_

_:Of course I-: _Morna broke off.

_:Right. Marek is angry for you and he is angry that you do not appear to feel any anger about the situation.:_

_:How does my apparent lack of feeling affect his in any way:_

_:He is a man, Chosen. Even more, he is a warrior. Marek has been trained to protect you, but he has nothing to protect you against. The major menace in your life can supposedly only be destroyed by you. His role in your life has been to stand behind you and look menacing. That is hardly fulfilling.:_

_:Are you saying I should let him see everything I am feeling? I can't burden him that way:_

_:Would you really be burdening him? Or would you be finally letting him step up to his role in your life? Think, Chosen.:_

They lapsed into silence as Ceri walked into the camp.

-----------------

"I used to write poetry." Eldan's voice barely projected over the crackling of the fire Morna shared with him, Kerowyn, Alberich and Myste. Kero's gaze rose from the gem she was carving to regard him balefully. "I stopped."

"Good." Kero made a show of putting the gem back in her box of equipment and began cleaning her fingernails with a sharp little knife. "Otherwise I would be forced to hunt you down and eat you."

"Where is Marek?" Myste's quite voice distracted Morna from the truly odd, yet fitting, flirtation Kero and Eldan were having. She shrugged in reply and went back to watching the odd couple, hoping to learn something. It had occurred to her that she had never flirted with Marek. She had woken up that first morning with the Clan and Marek had been in her pile of blankets with her. From that day forward, he had always been with her. There was no lack of passion in their relationship. Their nocturnal activities had evolved beyond sleeping two years ago. However, they had never flirted, and rarely played or just enjoyed each other. Their lives revolved around her mission.

"Did you two fight?"

"What were we like, when we were little?"

Myste seemed taken aback by Morna's question. "You and Marek?" Morna nodded. "Inseparable. Marek was your bodyguard from the start. If you cried, he was there to fix it. You never fought with a trainee, because he did it for you. You two learned together, _lived_ together. If there was something he could do to make your life easier, he did it, and you were dependent on him." Myste snorted softly. "I remember, Alberich and I were worried we would have to separate the two of you so that would learn a few life skills. He was even doing your chores. Then, it was like you woke up one day. You refused to let him do your chores or help you with anything. It was quite a shock for him."

Morna nodded, staring into the fire. Then she rose. "I am going to bed. Good night."

Myste nodded, worried, and traded glances with Alberich as Morna wandered into the night.

----------------

The sounds of revelry drew her to a fire just within the camp's outer guard perimeter. Morna knew that was where Marek would be. His friends gathered most nights around of a fire of their own, where they laughed, flirted with the girls who wandered over and told exaggerated tales. Most nights, Marek stayed with her, telling her he did not mind forsaking the entertainment of his friends for time with her. Some nights, he would tell her he was going to go see his friends, and would stand there and watch her until she told him to go. Now she recognized those nights as nights when he needed her to ask him to stay.

He did not see her at first, when she entered the circle of firelight, and she took the opportunity to study him. Marek was quite the male specimen. Myste had once commented that he was built along the lines of a boulder with an attitude problem, and Morna could not agree more. He was a direct contrast to her long slim build. Now, however, his ebullient personality seemed diminished. He drank ale and stared moodily into the fire, bristling and growling at his friends, who were exerting a large amount of energy to cheer him up. Another step into the firelight brought silence. Marek's friends regarded her with hostility, their gazes were cold. She wrapped her arms around herself, drawing the long sleeves of her sweater over her hands.

"I thought I told you to not follow me." Marek's voice was quiet, dark. His back was to her and he never turned around.

Morna swallowed hard, pushing the hurt down. "I didn't. I went back to the camp and…" her voice trailed off.

"Leave, Morna."

"Marek…"

"I said-"

"I'm terrified." She blurted it out and her hands clenched around her elbows, hugging herself tightly. His friends faded into the background, not a part of her reality at the moment, and his shoulders stiffened and he finally turned around to face her. Marek's face was a cold mask.

"What?"

She forced herself to swallow again and felt tears rise, unbidden. Looking away from his cold, unfamiliar eyes she focused on a rock in the distance, silhouetted against the star-crowded sky. "Before. You said you looked at me and saw me as calm and accepting. I'm not. I'm terrified." The tears spilled over and the stars blurred. She never saw him rise or saw his face lose the cold mask, never saw his pain or his relief or his love. The sobs rose up in her and jerked her body and she pulled her elbows in tighter, hunching. "I am so scared that there are nights that I don't sleep. I just lay there and hope you don't notice, and hope at the same time that you would and wake up and just hold on to me. I didn't want you to know." He was there in front of her, wiping her tears with hands that were heartbreakingly gentle. "I didn't want you to know," she repeated in a hoarse whisper, focusing on him, "because you had given up everything for me. I love you. I didn't want to put this on you, too."

Marek pulled her head down until their foreheads were touching, and she wrapped one hand around one of his thick wrists. Her breathing was rough, jerking her body as he stared into her dark eyes. "_Ke'a'char_," he whispered. "I have given up nothing, and gained everything. Your fear is no burden to me, but a gift." Her sobs were easing and Morna was able to give him a look that clearly doubted his sanity. He smiled. "In giving me your fear, you give me your trust." Morna felt her heart begin to unclench, felt his words soothe her very soul, and released a long breath, closing her eyes. She felt him place gentle kisses on her eyelids, then he gathered her into his arms and lifted her from her feet. She did not care where he was taking her and let her head loll on his shoulder. When he laid her down, she opened her eyes to the cool darkness and saw they were where they had fought. With slow, deliberate movements, Marek pulled her sweater over head, murmuring in Shin'a'in, and, as the stars whirled overhead, he showed her what her gift meant to him.


End file.
